This Is My Jam, Ivan!
by enarcoyufuin
Summary: Today is Alfred's daily cleaning day, and Ivan is out buying groceries. What could happen when Alfred needs the assistance of the radio for him to pull through? RusAme. Rated T for a little swearing and little sexual hints, no biggie.


This is My Jam, Ivan!

Summary: Today is Alfred's daily cleaning day, and Ivan is out buying groceries. What could happen when Alfred needs the assistance of the radio for him to pull through? RusAme.

**A/N: This is my first Hetalia story that involves a pairing, especially my favorite one, so bear with me. Plus, not a lot of people read my stories, so I'm not expecting a lot of views. But for all my faithful readers out there, thank you very much, and you can expect a lot more RusAme from me! I've got a brain full of ideas and I'm not afraid to use it!**

**Anyway, enjoy the story, as always!**

The constant tuning of a dated radio filtered through the small apartment as a busy blond wandered back and forth in the small interior of the kitchen, reorganizing anything and everything he could get his hands upon.

Yes, besides popular belief, Alfred F. Jones, the personification of the United States of America, is a neat freak.

From the simple dust mite to the disarray of stacked magazines, the hero left no stone unturned in his conquest of cleanliness. However, Alfred knew that in order to finish his daily cleaning, nothing but the perfect song could be played in order for him to be completely satisfied with himself and his work.

This brings us back to his current dilemma.

Uttering a sigh of frustration and running his hands through his hair, the nation was just about to throw his broom at the darned contraption until he heard a smooth beat come on. He froze.

The music started out with the background singer slowly coming into focus, and before he knew it, the lead singer began with her supposedly seductive intro.

"_Turn me up, turn me up, turn me, turn me, turn me up, _

_yeah, yeah yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah _  
_(Kill 'em)_

_Turn me up, turn me up, turn me, turn me, turn me up, _

_yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah_  
_(Kill 'em)_

_I'm goin out tonight, it's goin' down_  
_Headed straight to the front of the line, on the fly_  
_On the floor I can't stand still_  
_And I'm goin to work like I'm paying my bills (bills)_  
_My whole clique's on the floor (the floor)_  
_We gon' party, then party some more (some more)_  
_Rozay up in the air_  
_Feeling good, feeling great, just got paid_ "

Shock turning into utter horror, Alfred dramatically clutched his chest in mock pain at the cheesy lyrics and made a quick movement to turn the monstrosity off. However, by the chorus, he found himself reluctantly entranced and picked up his feather duster, bringing the portable device along with him into the cramped living room.

"_And they playin' my jam_  
_They playin' my jam_  
_They playin' my jam_  
_They playin' my jam_  
_They playin' my jam_  
_They playin' my jam_  
_They playin' my jam_  
_They playin' my jam_  
_Turn it up, turn it up, turn it up, turn it up_  
_Turn it up, turn it up DJ_  
_Turn it up, turn it up, turn it up, turn it up_  
_So I can rock the night away, away-ay-ay_"

Alongside the clichéd, repetitious lyrics, the dusty blond noticed his hips swaying to the beat as he rhythmically dusted the furniture and tuned out all outside distractions while the song grew louder in his subconscious, letting the music flow through him.

As he immersed deeper into the sensual melody, Alfred did not hear the front door creak open and footsteps come to a stop as the owner gazed upon the sight of his impromptu dance/cleaning session.

Ivan Braginsky, personification of the Russian Federation and long-time boyfriend/roommate of the one and only Alfred F. Jones , had no words to describe the display in front of him. The ashen blond intensely stared at his companion-er, boyfriend-comrade? as he accentuated his gyrations with every heavy beat and moved around the room, obliviously unaware.

Face flushing from pale to a tomato red, Ivan's thoughts ran rampant in his head, some more dirtier than others. 'Черт, he looks so sexy prancing around like that...and his ass...' He stifled a groan as he was forced back into reality when the song reached its end, dying out with one single note.

Stretching after his unexpected workout, Alfred surveyed the general area one last time, nodding as a sign of his patented Sign of Approval™, and turned just to fall over a stool in surprise.

"I-Ivan, babe! H-how long have you been-" a pause for a loud gulp, "y'know, standing there?" He fidgeted, his cornflower blue eyes darting in every direction and his face glinting with sweat either from his exhaustion, or sheer embarrassment.

Ivan feigned nonchalance and replied, "Oh, not long at all, дорогой. Just at the part when it was starting to get good." He chuckled and sauntered over to the shorter blond, encircling his arms around him as he whispered into his ear, "You just had to get me all hot and bothered, да?"

Alfred shivered as those few words sent shocks down his spine. Feeling his face warm up, he broke free of Ivan's hold, dashed over to the front door, and grabbed the forgotten groceries, keeping his face hidden from his lover. "Frickin' bastard, getting me all flustered like this... " he mumbled, along with a few choice curses and power walked into the kitchen.

Smug and satisfied, Ivan dropped himself onto the loveseat placed at the entrance of the hallway that connected the living room and the kitchen, and gave a thankful look towards the radio, knowing that tonight would be extra special, neighbors be damned.

"Am I ever so glad that I bought this radio..."

Song Used: Jam (Turn It Up) by Kim Kardashian **(Don't judge, I used to hate this song, but hey, it's in my most played list. *shrugs*)**

Translations:

Черт- Chert- Damn

дорогой- Dorogoy- Darling

да-Da- Yes

**(Google Translate can be such a douche.)**


End file.
